Lo, behold the Painting
by 85thbox
Summary: Just a starting of the story..inspired by the picture of Dorian Grey
1. Chapter 1

The Long Day

So, this is how it is. I mumble and ramble about it and you seem to not notice anything. Am I that unimportant a thing that you would not look at me, but rather scoff at the very sight of. I am but another you, only just a shadow that trails behind you. A shadow that you say haunts you but merely reveals the truth you wish not to see. I offer you the depths of all that is in front of your very own eyes - our eyes, yet you shut it out in fear that you may discover what is beneath it all.

A shadow, a silhouette, reflection - there are many words you have for me. I do not mind it, in fact I flatter myself thinking you at least have a name for me. Now, what should I call you for I do envy you. You can move, you can talk, you can eat and you can see, while I can only imitate. But, you forget that. You believe that I can only whisper and whisper I do. My friends say that we can never be free of these chains, that we are bound to our other halves.

Hush now, I see it lurking there, another thought readying itself to pounce on you. This time I shall not stop it, this time, I want to see it creep out and yell. You know you want it, we want it!. The mere smell of it is entrancing, so much so that you lose yourself for some time. Come now, we need it to get through the day, to alert us, to sensitize us.

"There you go, Miss. Your morning coffee, just the way you like it," said the familiar waiter. I often forget his I shouldn't do. I'll try to ask him when he comes to take the cup away.

Well, off to work now. I glance one last time at the decrepit building I was staring at earlier, nothing about it seems to annoy me more than its broken fiber glass shade at the front door. I do wish they'd take care of it. For the sake of ...


	2. Chapter 2

The Lone Painting (Story Continued.. from "the long day")

**said she. I could have sworn she was not in a good mood to listen anymore. Nevertheless, I contemplated pleading once more with her. **

**it is the last of my work. I have been to countless others but they just give it one last look. Sleep on it if you must. Then let me know if you still consider it unworthy.**Fine leave nowWhy would anyone even bother to store a painting of it, the very place keeps them away, mark my words she will not keep it, or sell it or whatever else they do with will be someone who will buy, just you wait and seet be right. There is something there, I know it. I feel it. I had even picked up the broken shards of the fiber shade the other day just to make sure. I had always believed there was something eerie about that building. The shards of the fiber shade had proved so. Glistening on the table one night had I noticed it. When I went into my room to grab a camera, it had disappeared. There was no one else in the apartment that night. Just me and It. I couldn't muster the courage to sneak into the premise of the building to see what was inside. Only a week ago, had I found it to be an art gallery, albeit a lone one. No one ever came there.

But there was something that drew me to its long facade and towering gargoyles. I had decided to paint the very building in the hope that I might gain understanding of its character. The painting sadly didn't tell me much. It showed exactly what I saw, a dilapidated structure that had been abandoned years ago. I found no use of the painting then and decided to sell it to the gallery. I hadn't realized that in all the confusion my phone was ringing. An unknown number, hesitantly, I picked it up.

**. Instantly I leapt up. , panting. but you will have to come down for it**Sure, I** I replied and hung up. While I was rejoicing, somewhere in my head, It had woken up from its slumber. .**


	3. Chapter 3

When I met him

Throughout my way to the gallery, I imagined different scenarios of the meeting. Of course, I was anxious and hadn't the slightest clue as to what mysterious news the curator had for me that couldn't be relayed on the phone. I often paused at various points wondering about what It had warned me about. It was strange to be standing there on the pavement all alone and as I saw how people were starting to turn their heads and point at this, I hurriedly walked on.

Those familiar entrance gates seemed odd to me today. Its rustic and weathered frame, splintered on the edges and scuffed on the bottom seemed oddly more beaten today like it had suddenly been awoken from a deep sleep. Creaking only slightly more than yesterday, I entered forth into the front of the gallery steps. It was only then that I looked upon at the entrance sign, **written in faded gold, the small letters only barely being visible and tucked under the cornice above. I vaguely remember my painting in fact, I may even have forgotten to put one on the painting. Reminding myself that I ought to check it once inside, I stepped through the door. **

**I was greeted by a short lady dressed in all pink that made me instantly think of who she was. Naturally my expression may have given away my thoughts as she said t mind?**No. thatwho am I meeting exactly?I think it best you stepped through here to the back miss** I said. . **

**I was led through a dark passage behind the door and into a tiny waiting room where I was ushered in and motioned to wait in. this room was in stark contrast to the passage leading to it. Where that was dark and dismal, this was bright and unrealistic. I am generally not a very patient person and so I got up and paced around the room. There was nothing on the walls, no paintings, no caricatures, no portraits, and no plants. The walls seemed as vacant as I was at the moment and I felt a sudden pang of fear **he is ready for you, Ms. Weller.s get this over with.


End file.
